


Leta With Flowers In Her Hair

by orphan_account



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Tina escapes with Jacob and Queenie to England and asks Newt for help, he sees a chance to rekindle their relationship. But he finds it hard to get over the past, especially when it turns out it's not as past as he thought.(Started off as a companion piece to "An Evening in June" but turned into a full-fledged chaptered story. Newtina shippers, fear not the ship tags, this is all about our beloved pairing and meant for you to enjoy!)





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Newt,_

 

_I hope these last months have treated you well..._

 

Newt had always prided himself on his observational qualities, but he wondered if he had recognised Tina’s handwriting because he knew it came from oversees – it had been delivered by a long-distance postal owl which looked quite weatherbeaten - or if he recognised it… just _because_. After filing the feeling away for further inspection later, he read each sentence over and over again before continuing on to the next. The letter was quite short, both sides of a small sheet of paper after almost a year apart, and he wanted to savour it.

 

_I hope these last months have treated you well. Things continue here as they always have. Forgive me if I get straight to the point..._

 

That was her, all right. Never one to beat around the bush, and her penmanship would bear no time-wasting flourishes either. He could almost picture her at her desk, her brow furrowed and her mouth downturned, a dark strand of hair slipping from behind her ear as she wrote in haste.

 

_Forgive me if I get straight to the point, but I must inform you that my sister, unbeknownst to me, has started seeing Jacob Kowalski again. I don't know whether his memory came back before or during their involvement, but as they have been intimate for quite some months now, this is of little importance. I don't need to tell you how MACUSA would react if..._

 

 _Intimate_. Yes, the way he remembered it, Queenie and Jacob had been _intimate_ in the first minutes they had met. Newt had been baffled by such effortless confidence and trust. He could understand spontaneously bonding with a creature, but that was only because it wasn't human. Creatures didn't deceive or judge; they could certainly hurt you, but they would do so with the integrity and honesty of pure instinct. People, on the other hand...

 

_You know fully well how much I yearn for you, how my nights are filled with thoughts of having you near me..._

 

No. That was another letter. No. He said he would forget. He pictured Tina at her desk and read the letter from the start again, like a stream polishing a stone.

 

_I don't need to tell you how MACUSA would react if they found out, both towards Jacob and my sister. And I admit I did not have the heart to even suggest to Queenie that she terminate the relationship; evidently both of them are set on a future together. As it is, we see no other option than to leave the United States for the time being (at least as long as Rappaport's law is still in place). England naturally appeared to us as a possible place to stay, but since we have no connections there, I turn to you in the hope that you can help us..._

 

How simply she expressed an infinitely complex situation, and with what ease she slipped back into his life, spurred only by the belief she was doing the right thing, without any consideration of her own wants or needs. This was the witch who had taken Credence's hand in her own, a straightforward gesture of kindness in a world where people always found excuses to be selfish.

 

Newt's heart swelled in his chest. He made no attempt to restrain it back to its default prudence and reserve; he had always believed that natural impulses should not be tampered with, neither for creatures nor for men, which had gotten him into trouble more than once.

 

_I turn to you in the hope that you can help us find temporary accommodations while we straighten out our situation, the first order of matter being getting Queenie and Jacob married so they can have a legal status, in Europe at least. Such a dreary way to announce what should be a happy event... but we'll indeed be very happy if we can get out of New York as soon as possible._

 

Newt set the letter down. The practical obstacles to resolve the situation existed, certainly, but they were a matter entirely separate from the simple and obvious answer to Tina's request. Of course he would help them. What was the point of working for an institution as drab and tedious as the Ministry of Magic if it didn't give you at least some advantages once in a while?

 

Emberson at the Department of Magical Immigration made hasty work of the temporary permits they would need to stay in England before they made their situation more permanent. The marriage license was a bit trickier, as one had to request a Muggle license as well before entering in a wizardly bond. Trickier still was the lodging. It would take weeks to find a suitable furnished flat, and his own place was nothing more than a small, musty room in a family pension. Maybe he could let them stay in his suitcase? But then the creatures might get spooked, and it didn't exactly have functioning plumbing.

 

In the end, he asked his brother for advice; Theseus had far more friends and acquaintances than he did.

 

"Why don't I ask Algie?" Theseus suggested.

 

"You'd let them stay in your flat? It's quite small, though, barely more than a bachelor pad - well, for two bachelors in your case."

 

"No, I mean, the Longbottoms have quite a large house in London. Even with his sisters coming back from Hogwarts, there would be more than enough room there."

 

"Oh right. I hadn't thought of that. Do you think they'll accept?"

 

"Newt, when have the Longbottoms ever failed to invite us to stay for dinner? Of course they will!"

 

"I suppose so... It would be nice of them. And it's nice of you to help."

 

"You're the helper here, brother. In five days flat you've arranged for the trans-Atlantic relocation of three outlaws. Not too bad."

 

 _A_ _helper_. That's the label he always tacked on himself during his school days. It made him feel more human, and at the same time allowed for a certain disdain of others.

 

_You'll help me, won't you? I can't trust anyone else, you're the only one who's ever understood me..._

 

Coming from _her_ mouth, it was more than a flattering label. It was a weapon. She knew perfectly well where each and every one of his tender spots were, and pressed them one by one until he was helpless, her dark eyes melting into his so as to dull the pain. At the time, it even felt good. Better than good, if he was honest. The suffering came later.

 

But no more of that. No more. That was in the past. The letter which was in his hand, which remained in his pocket since he'd put it there a week ago, which he had read so many times he could recite it by heart in his head, was the future.

 

_With all my thanks,_

 

_Yours,_

 

_Tina_

 

Even though it might be taken as a common politeness with which to end a letter, it was that ending word Newt clung to while he waited for the date of their arrival to come, ticking away each day on the calendar, agonising both over how long it took and how little time he had to prepare himself properly.

 

And then her name, so small and simple, which he brought with him to bed at night, rolled around in his head like a trinket and tucked away before falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place directly after "An Evening in June". Some things might be clearer if you read that first, but if you don't, rest assured you can still enjoy the shippy goodness :)

There were always certain images that would imprint themselves in one’s mind for no particular reason, and that one could recall with no effort at all, even years later. Tina supposed that it was those images that made the clearest, most vivid Pensieve memories.

 

Her earliest was their mother standing in their tiny, run-down flat, wrapped in a shawl and tracing the webs of frost that January had left on the window pane. Another was the sheen of freshly polished wood and the gleam of her bronze nameplate, the first time she sat at her desk in the Auror department of MACUSA.

 

Another still was Newt rolling up his shirtsleeves as he prepared to feed the Occamies. The memory was absolutely intact, from the gentle chirping of the creatures to the strange sunlit hue of the suitcase to the way the muscles moved under the freckled skin of Newt’s forearms, the elegant dexterity of his hands, his jaw clenched in quiet concentration. (Tina often wondered why it wasn’t the moment of their parting that she remembered so perfectly. After all, not a day had passed where she hadn’t thought about it, but like a favourite article of clothing worn over and over again, it was distorted with use and emotion.)

 

And now, as she watched her sister sitting on the bed of the Longbottom’s guest room, admiring the sparkling hem of her pink dress, her golden hair like a halo in the glow of the night stand lamp, Tina knew that she would never forget a single detail of this moment: Queenie’s radiant smile, the laughter coming from the garden outside, the soft summer breeze playing with the curtains. Despite the danger they were in – they were refugees, after all, and as a non-wizard Jacob wasn’t even protected by magical law – this moment was impervious to it, ensconced in happiness.

 

“Well, I think I’m going to tuck in,” Queenie said with a little yawn. “I’m still exhausted from the trip, can you believe it?”

 

“I might as well go to bed too,” Tina replied. “Though I don’t hold out much hope of getting rid of the dark circles under my eyes before the wedding pictures tomorrow.”

 

“Oh no, don’t! I mean...” She looked at her from under her eyelashes, trying for innocence. “Why don’t you go back down in the garden with the fellas? I mean, we’ve hardly gotten to know Newt’s brother and his friend Algie, maybe it would be nice to...”

 

Tina crossed her arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

 

Queenie sighed. “Teenie, come on. I know you care for Newt.”

 

“Of course I care for Newt, he’s a good friend and -”

 

“Not like _that_. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. Now that we’re here, you should try spending some time with him – quality time, you know.”

 

Tina bit her lip uncertainly. “Quality time, huh?”

 

“Yeah, time where he’s not going to see you as an Auror with terrific fighting skills, but as a lovely girl with oodles of charm.”

 

“ _Oodles of charm_? Now you’re just yanking my chain.”

 

“I mean it, Teenie. You hide it under those dreary clothes of yours, but I can tell you, you have what it takes.”

 

“All right, that’s it, give me my cardigan back.”

 

Tina held out her hand but Queenie wrapped the grey cardigan tightly around her. “No way. You’ll have to do without it. Go talk to him and give him a glimpse of something for once, for crying out loud!”

 

Tina rolled her eyes and let her arms hang limply to the side as she turned towards the door. Under her tender smile and guileless blue eyes, her sister could be as stubborn as a mule sometimes, especially when she knew she was in the right.

 

“Just be yourself!” she called out as Tina crossed into the staircase landing.

 

 _Herself_. That was not something she often wanted to be when dealing with men, she thought as she climbed down the stairs. On the few dates she had been on, she had always molded herself into something more attractive, tried to soften the edges and slip on the same easy radiance as her sister. But her hair frizzed when she curled it, the rouge on her cheeks made her look flushed and the décollage of the dress she borrowed from Queenie always fell flat. And on the rare occasion where the date had miraculously ended with what men bragged about as “action”, she was so ill at ease that it never went beyond some awkward grabbing.

 

When she reached the front hall, Tina stopped to look at herself in a large, ornate mirror hanging by the coat rack. She tucked her hair behind her ear then took it out again, but neither satisfied her and she huffed with exasperation. Why could she never simply feel _right_? She cared too much, and it showed. How could that possibly appeal to someone who was so immune to what other people thought, and so effortlessly graceful because of it?

 

Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. Better just get on with it so she could tell Queenie she’d tried, and leave it at that. She walked down the corridor to the back door and stepped out into the warm June night.

 

Jacob, Theseus and Algie were sitting at the lawn table, finishing the pastries and sandwiches. They had switched from tea to brandy and their laughter was all the louder for it.

 

“I don’t know how Mother can pull it off, honestly,” Algie was saying, “but she could probably feed a regiment in a day’s notice.”

 

“But… how does it work?” Jacob asked. “I mean, why can’t any wizard just wave a wand around and get a fancy dinner ready?”

 

“Much more complicated than that, unfortunately,” Theseus said as he poured them more brandy. “It takes quite a lot of skill to measure the spell. You can undercook or burn your food with magic as surely as you would with stove. Oh, Tina, would you care for a glass?”

 

He had seen her coming down the steps. He was taller and more heavy-set than his brother, but he had the same hazel eyes and tawny hair, though his was styled in a crisp professional cut.

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Tina replied, glancing around for Newt. She spotted him, finally, under the large oak tree.

 

“Is Queenie coming down?” Jacob asked.

 

“No, she’s gone to bed. Bride needs her beauty sleep.”

 

“Any more beauty and this groom will have a heart attack,” Jacob replied with a laugh.

 

The three men clinked glasses and Tina left them to their cheers. She crossed the lawn to where the light from the house receded to leave room for darkness. Through her sandals, she could feel the coolness of the grass and its fragrance left her slightly dizzy. Newt was crouching near the oak tree, intent on something on the ground.

 

“It always fascinated me, the bioluminescence of fireflies,” he said.

 

She should’ve been taken aback by his conversation starter, but it pleased her that she wasn’t. “I’m not surprised. Is there a creature, big or small, that you don’t find interesting?”

 

“No, but fireflies are particular.”

 

“Oh? Why is that?”

 

“It’s a bit like magic, isn’t it? This little speck of light flying around. Even Muggles are enchanted by it.” Newt stood up and turned towards her, his hand cupped around a greenish glow. “I used to catch these all the time in summer when I was a child.”

 

It took her a moment to realise he was expecting her to look inside his hand. She leaned towards him and peaked at the firefly sitting on his palm.

 

“Cute little fella.”

 

“Of course, there’s a perfectly rational reason for them to emit light,” Newt continued, and the vibration of his voice made her realise just how close they were. “You see, it’s a mating signal. They use it to recognise each other as members of the same species and present themselves as a desirable mate.”

 

“The brighter the light, the better the chances, then?”

 

“I suppose so. Incidentally, I – I based much of my comprehension of the mating practises of the erumpent on fireflies.”

 

The catch in his voice sent a nervous thrill through her. But it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that broiled unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. It was a nervousness that fluttered all the way up to her throat, bolstered by the certainty that he felt it as well.

 

“Sometimes I think… it might be easier if humans had the same kind of overt visual signal to use in courtship.”

 

He gave a small laugh but Tina said nothing. She sensed it was no longer the time for words, and knew she should touch him – or he should touch her, with all the terrifying implications it would entail.

 

She held out her hand in turn and for a moment, he simply looked at her with a half-smile. Then, with infinite care, he dropped the firefly on her palm, the tip of his fingers lingering there a moment longer than they should.

 

“I know you’re gentle, Tina.”

 

She glanced up at him, but he looked away towards the house. At that moment, Theseus called out to him.

 

“Are you quite finished collecting bugs? Come have a drink with us!”

 

Newt stood awkwardly, as if unwilling to move but compelled to. Finally he shrugged and made his way towards the table.

 

Tina followed Newt slowly, wonderfully confused. What had he meant by that? Was it his way to say he trusted her with his creatures, or something else entirely? She stretched out her hand flat so that the firefly fluttered away. In any case, the moment had passed, and wouldn’t come back until the flurry of the wedding had died down. And then… then she was determined to find out what it was, exactly, that he was trying to tell her.


	3. Chapter 3

Newt was drunk.

 

He tried to rephrase this thought to find a more appropriate word – he certainly wasn’t drunk like that time during the war when his mates in the regiment had given him Polish wheat liquor to drink. Out of despair from the cold nights and the days full of torment, he’d accepted and woken up the next morning with a head encased in lead and a stomach torn to shreds, not remembering what he’d done the night before.

 

His only other experience with alcohol, apart from that fateful event, was stealing sips of Firewhiskey in the dorms at Hogwarts: not because he wanted to impress his peers or disobey his teachers, but simply out of curiosity as to what effect alcohol would have on his mental capacities. He hadn’t enjoyed the taste one bit and had only observed a slight diminishing of his equilibrium as well as a heightened sense of bravado. Nothing to write home about – it was, after all, only the dredges of a nearly empty bottle.

 

Tonight, however, was a much more conclusive experiment. The wine and brandy the Longbottoms had provided for the wedding dinner were excellent and radiated pleasantly in Newt’s throat before swirling about in the rest of his body, filling him with what he could only describe as a warm, golden glow. They were plentiful as well, and since all of the guests seemed to think of new reasons to propose a toast, Newt had lost count of the number of glasses he’d had. But his giddiness increased accordingly, and he vaguely formulated the idea that it was the case for everyone else, hence the endless series of toast.

 

It was a self-replicating process, really. And he was definitely drunk. Did it matter, though? He laughed to himself. There really was no better occasion for it than the slingshot wedding of two de facto outlaws.

 

Theseus and Algie had brought out the gramophone out on the lawn and someone else had bedecked the oak tree with a garland of fairy lights. Newt had a brief thought for the fireflies, then let himself be dazzled for a moment by the shimmer of Queenie’s pink dress.

 

“Where will you two lovebirds be staying for your honeymoon?” Mr Longbottom called out.

 

Jacob, his forehead damp with sweat and his cheeks glowing red, let out a roar of laughter. “In your son’s bachelor pad, only for the night.”

 

“Rest assured we sprinkled rose petals on Theseus’s bed,” Algie said. “And don’t mind the piles of paperwork in the corner!”

 

Queenie laughed in turn and embraced her husband. The gramophone crackled out a song and they spun out onto the improvised dance floor in the middle of the lawn, narrowly missing little Francis who was being chased by one of his sisters.

 

The picture of pure, luminous, forthright happiness. It occurred to Newt, not for the first time, that the key to that world had been lost to him a long time ago, that he was bound to slink on the sidelines in fear of what stepping out into the open might entail.

 

But if being drunk was good for anything, it was pushing that sort of thought asides. Newt took a sip of red wine and let his gaze land on the person who was also standing at the opposite edge of the dance floor.

 

Tina was wearing a simple frock of dark silk which hung perfectly on her lithe frame and plunged down to reveal an enticing stretch of skin. She didn’t seem to be aware of its elegance – as always, she expected her sister to be the centre of attention. Newt shamelessly relished in the sight of her: looking at her was like soothing one’s eyes in the shade after being out in the sun too long. He wondered if that silk would feel as cool under his fingers as it looked.

 

“She’s waiting for you to ask her to dance, you know.”

 

For a moment, Newt wondered if his mind had just spoken aloud, then he swivelled towards Theseus.

 

“I happen to be... very aware of that fact,” he said, trying to sound composed.

 

“Congratulations,” Theseus replied, and they clinked glasses. “Now what in Merlin’s bloody beard’s name are you waiting for?”

 

“What’s it to you, you great bloody bastard?”

 

“I’m just looking out for the interests of my little brother. Also, I have a bet with Algie hanging on it.”

 

“A bet?”

 

“Come on, the way you two were behaving last night…” He smirked and finished his drink in one swig. “You’ve always been keen on letting them simmer, I’ll gather, but all bets asides it seems rather cruel to drag it out.”

 

“I’m not dragging it out, I’m just… preparing myself.”

 

“Take it from an Auror, the more you prepare, the less prepared you are.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

 

Theseus slapped his back. “Go right in the thick of the action, that’s the way.”

 

Newt gave him a shove and Theseus tripped slightly, then ambled off with a snigger. His brother was even drunker than he was, but he had a point. There was no tiptoeing around it, no use planning elaborate strategies. He wanted Tina. He ached with such desire for her that it was a physical strain not to be touching her. And he was fairly certain she felt the same, adding to his desire.

 

A self-replicating process. He straightened his waistcoat, raked a hand hastily through his hair and walked towards her.

 

Their eyes met and Tina’s mouth opened slightly, as if her breath had caught, but she didn’t avert her gaze. Not out of boldness, Newt had figured out early on, but because she always forced herself not to look away in the face of adversity. Was he adversity, then? He supposed it made sense. Neither of them knew exactly from what angle to tackle this tremendous, burdensome attraction that made every word and every gesture loaded with meaning.

 

_Don’t think. Just take her hand. Tell her she’s lovely. My god, she’s lovely._

 

“Tina.”

 

That was a good start. He had made the conscious effort not to stop too close to her lest she think he was crowding her, but his evaluation of distances were off, and a slight flush appeared on her cheeks.

 

“Having fun?” she asked, embarrassed but giddy.

 

“Well, music and all that – not really my cup of tea usually, but I thought we might… I mean, since the occasion calls for it...”

 

She laughed and the sound trembled all the way down to the pit of his stomach. “That’s one way to ask me to dance.”

 

Newt closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right, that was terrible. Would you like to dance, Tina?”

 

“Of course I would.”

 

As he took her hand in his and led her to the centre of the lawn, he felt both buoyed by her answer and grounded by the wonderful sensation of her fingers intertwined with his. Neither of them spoke as he turned her around and slipped his other hand on the small of her back, pressing her closer to him until the length of their bodies were almost touching. Tina was slightly off-balance and seemed to gravitate towards him; the scent of brandy mingled with her perfume told him she had probably had more than one glass to drink as well. Fighting the temptation to draw her fully against him was like battling with a slippery sea creature that escaped control and relentlessly came to break the surface of still waters.

 

“It seems we’ve both been unreasonable tonight,” he murmured.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied in mock innocence. “Unless that’s an admission that you’re not in your normal state?”

 

“I haven’t exactly been in my normal state since you arrived here.”

 

The smile faded from her lips but stayed in her eyes. For a few seconds, they let the slow, languid music talk for them.

 

“Newt, maybe we should...”

 

“Yes. Yes, we should.”

 

He closed his eyes again and let his forehead touch hers, too overwhelmed to hold back. One more turn, one more beat and her lips would be within reach of his…

 

“Your attention, please!”

 

The music stopped and the voices of the other guests suddenly reminded them that they weren’t alone. They wrenched apart and turned their heads; Newt felt as though the fairy lights were suddenly blinding him. Queenie and Jacob were standing in the middle, and Algie was marching towards them with a flowerpot in hand.

 

“Now, as the wizards among you may have guessed, this is the Portkey that will bring the two newlyweds to their suite. However, as a Muggle – or No-Maj, whichever term you prefer – Jacob has to have discovered the joys of travelling this way. Any recommendations?”

 

“Stick your head between your shoulders!”

 

“Say a prayer and hope for the best!”

 

Jacob looked slightly alarmed but Queenie lovingly hooked her arm in his.

 

“Just touch the pot and hold on to me, darling, it’ll be fine.”

 

“Actually, there is no proof that Muggle constitutions are any more susceptible to the side-effects of Portkeys than wizards,” Newt supplied.

 

He gave Jacob a thumbs up and his friend smiled weakly. As the rest of the guests cheered them on, Queenie waved to Tina with a beaming smile, then the couple placed their palms on the flowerpot and they vanished in a swirl of blue light.

 

The claps faded and the music started again, but no one was dancing any more and the party descended into quiet, satisfied conversations. Tina shivered; Newt went to fetch his vest and draped it over her shoulders. When she looked up at him in thanks, he saw that her eyes were wet, and it dawned on him that she had never before now been separated from her sister.

 

He had never wanted to kiss her more than he did now. But he couldn’t, not she was so emotional and he was so muddled. Tina deserved so much more, so much better: a clear, unencumbered attempt to earn her affection in the bright light of day.

 

“Come with me tomorrow,” he blurted out.

 

“Come with you? Where?”

 

“I don’t know. We can go to the pictures, or the park, or anywhere you’d like. I want to take you out. Please, Tina, say yes.”

 

Tina’s gaze lit up with surprised delight. “First a dance, then a date,” she teased him. “You, at least, have been unreasonable. How about going to Diagon Alley? I’ve heard so much about it, maybe you could act as my tour guide.”

 

“Diagon Alley it is, then. I’ll come pick you up for lunch.”

 

“Let’s make it a little later. I think we’re going to need to sleep this off, don’t you?”


End file.
